


There's a Thunder Deep Inside of You

by parseltonquinq



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Assassin Draco, Assassin Harry, Bottom Draco, M/M, Top Harry, and end up fucking instead, fighting that turns into fucking, not exactly hate sex, they're ordered to kill one another, this is basically all porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-03
Updated: 2016-08-03
Packaged: 2018-07-29 02:45:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7667260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parseltonquinq/pseuds/parseltonquinq
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco is an elite international operative. Harry is a Russian assassin. Their orders are to kill one another. It doesn't go quite as planned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There's a Thunder Deep Inside of You

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from "First Blood" by Kavinsky. Find me on Tumblr @parseltonquinq. 
> 
> It's really late here and I wanted to get this posted before I go to sleep, so I'll probably edit it in a couple of days. Hope you enjoy.

Draco snarled as his back was slammed against a wall, then clenched his fists in the front of Harry’s tuxedo, ripping it in half and shoving it off his torso. The other man growled and bit down hard at the junction between Draco’s neck and shoulder. 

“You fucking bastard,” Harry hissed, raking his fingers down Draco’s back. 

Then he was reaching down toward his shin, where Draco knew he had a sheath, and Draco quickly grabbed the nearest object—a vase—and smashed it against the side of Harry’s head. 

This only seemed to hold him off for a moment or two, as the other man stumbled a bit, giving Draco the time to bolt, attempting to find another weapon. Harry shook off the top of his suit, which was in tatters, and pulled a knife from a sheath on each leg, twirling them expertly between his fingers. His green eyes were blazing and he was grinning wolfishly at Draco. 

Draco knew they looked ridiculous. The hotel room looked like someone had taken a wrecking ball to it—the mirrors were smashed, chairs were broken, tables were collapsed, there were cracks and dents in the walls—but the two of them looked just as bad. 

Draco knew the gel in his hair and been combed out by Harry’s fingers, his suit was torn in more places than he could count, he definitely had a couple of broken ribs, his knuckles hurt, his back was bruising, and his jaw felt numb with pain. Despite this, he was more turned on than he really should have been. 

Harry’s hair—it was getting longer—was tousled and had bits of drywall in it, he had a split lip and small cuts along his cheek from being smashed into a mirror, his chest was cut up, and his knuckles were bruising. He looked delicious. 

“We’ve got to stop doing this every time we meet,” Draco said, swiftly rolling to the side to grab a paring knife from the kitchen—it was better than nothing. 

“I have my orders,” Harry lunged toward him, swinging his knives expertly, slicing Draco’s breastbone. Draco leapt away only just in time to avoid a deep wound. “You have yours.” 

Harry struck again, twisting and leaping in ways that reminded Draco more of a cat than a human—he had to remind himself that, like himself, this man was a trained assassin. The only difference was that Harry was most definitely more skilled and more ruthless. He’d been trained by the Russians since they had found him in an orphanage as a child. Draco had come straight from the military. 

“So,” Draco said, dodging a blade, then ducking to avoid another, “the Russians still want me dead.” 

Harry didn’t respond—merely kicked Draco’s knife out of his hands, then dropped his own. He shook his hair out of his face, then clenched his hands into fists, jumping into the air. Draco didn’t even realize what was happening until his head was locked between Harry’s thighs and he was being taken down, smashed into the floor of the hotel room. Harry’s thigh muscles were clenching around his neck and he was struggling to breathe, grasping desperately at the other man—at his hips, his waist, his hair, anything. Vibrant green eyes stared at him. 

“Yes,” Harry said, panting. Draco hated himself for watching the quick inhale and exhale motions of Harry’s defined abdomen and pectorals. “They gain amusement from making me do it.” 

Draco choked for air. He must have imagined Harry releasing his grip slightly. “Oh? Why is that?” He managed to choke out. 

Calloused fingers brushed against Draco’s cheekbone, then pushed Draco’s hair from his eyes. Harry was smirking. “I believe they know we’ve fucked.” 

“Hilarious,” Draco coughed. Then he got an idea. Without waiting for Harry’s reaction, he stopped trying to shove Harry off of him and instead reached for the zip of Harry’s trousers. Harry stiffened and his eyes darkened as Draco fumbled with it, then dragged down Harry’s underwear, releasing his cock, which was already half hard. He raised an eyebrow. “Someone’s a masochist.” 

Harry’s smirk returned, then his fingers were tangling in Draco’s hair and he was pulling Draco’s head up toward his cock. “Can you blame me? We’ve only ever had sex whilst fighting.” 

Draco’s mouth watered as he took in the sight of Harry, shirtless, sweating, panting, split lip, bleeding temple, and all, his trousers open and his hardening cock pointing outward, right toward Draco. He licked his lips and looked up at Harry through his lashes, something he knew was irresistible. Harry muttered something utterly obscene in Russian and Draco took that as his cue to swallow down his cock. 

Harry said something again, then his fingers were tightening in Draco’s hair and his thighs were loosening, allowing Draco more room. Draco vaguely realized he could easily escape Harry’s grip now, but he found himself less inclined to than before, as he was starting to become rather more turned on as well. 

The hand not in Draco’s hair was clenched into a fist and as Draco relaxed his throat and swallowed once more, letting his tongue flicker against the underside of Potter’s cock, he felt more than heard the other man slam his fist down against the floor—the dull thud followed by the sound of splintering wood gave it away. If his mouth hadn’t been full, Draco would have smirked. 

Draco pulled off a bit to breathe through his nose and used his hand to work the part of Potter’s cock that his mouth couldn’t reach. Harry was tangling his fingers in Draco’s hair, keeping it out of his face, and his vibrant eyes were fixated upon Draco. The look within them could only be described as hungry. A low sound emanated from Draco’s throat and, maintaining eye contact with Harry, he rolled his hips against the floor, searching for any sort of friction. 

Suddenly the hand in his hair was pulling him off of Harry’s cock. Before he could protest, Harry’s mouth was slamming against his. He tasted like blood and wine and Draco couldn’t get enough. His hands grasped at Harry’s shoulders, biceps, hips, anything, as Harry took apart Draco’s tuxedo, his hands taking the opportunity to skate down his back, clench his hips, knead his ass. Draco moaned particularly loudly upon the latter occurring. 

Then the two of them were on their knees, wrapped around one another, their chests pressing together, attempting to get even closer. Harry’s trousers and pants were partially off, resting just beneath his ass, and he was wrestling with Draco’s. 

“I can see the headlines now: ‘Elite international assassin can’t undo a pair of trousers’,” Draco panted against Harry’s neck, gasping when teeth sunk into the junction between his neck and shoulder. “Joke’s on you,” he groaned, “I quite liked that.” 

“I must not be doing my job,” Harry murmured, sinking his teeth into Draco’s earlobe, raking his fingernails down Draco’s back, “you’re still talking.” 

“Well, you see—”

Draco had a quip lined up, but he forgot it the instant his cock was in Harry’s hand, a rough thumb smearing pre-come across the head. Harry tugged at it once, then twice, then suddenly Harry was moving away. 

Draco’s eyes snapped open, indignant, but then he was being wrenched upward and thrown face-first against the nearest wall. Again. He barely caught himself, bracing his hands against it, and was about to protest, but then Harry was crouching down and spreading his ass cheeks apart. Harry licked across his hole a couple of times, getting Draco wet, before finally pushing his tongue past the ring. 

The only sounds in the room were Draco’s curses muttered between clenched teeth and the obscene, wet lapping sounds coming from between Draco’s legs. When Harry added a finger, Draco swore and slammed his fist against the wall, just to have something to do. He’d deal with the dent later. When another finger was added, so was another dent. 

Certain he couldn’t take it any longer, Draco spun around, shoved Harry off-balance, then quickly stepped out of his pants and trousers before straddling Harry’s hips. Harry caught on quickly and bent his knees to get a better angle as Draco lined himself up. His eyes took in Harry, who looked like he’d just walked through a tornado and was prepared to swagger right into another, and he clenched his teeth as he slammed himself down on Harry’s cock. 

Harry groaned, then swore in three different languages, his hands clenching Draco’s hips so tightly he knew they would leave bruises. “ _Fuck_ , give me a warning next time,” Harry hissed. Ignoring him, Draco put his hands on Harry’s chest and pulled himself almost all the way off his cock before letting gravity take over, slamming his ass back down against Harry’s hips. They both swore. The pain he felt was filed away with the rest of his injuries as pleasure took the reins. As Draco's back arched, he only barely noticed the pain from his ribs. What he _did_ notice only amplified the pleasure.

And to think he had called  _Harry_ the masochist.

He was only able to repeat this a few more times before Harry was sitting up and wrapping his arms around Draco’s waist. One arm reached behind the other man to brace against the ground and Draco quickly flung his around Harry’s neck as Harry’s hips began pistoning upward, so rapidly Draco’s teeth were rattling. The air was being fucked out of his lungs as Harry’s arm kept him in place. Draco was desperately sucking in air, eyes closed, mouth wide open in pleasure. 

Harry paused to get a better grip on Draco and adjust his angle and when his hips began to slam into him again, Draco let out a loud moan. As he was being fucked, his cock was sliding between their stomachs, the way made slick by their sweat. In an attempt to stifle his cries, Draco buried his face into the side of Harry’s neck, biting down and sucking on his salty skin. Harry groaned and his fingernails dug into Draco’s side as he continued to fuck him. 

And it _was_ fucking. It was rough and primal and animalistic and Draco was certain he would be in pain the next day. He was also certain that this was not what his boss had had in mind when he had ordered Draco to terminate Harry Potter. Again. 

“M-my b-b _oss_ is-s g-gon-na f-fuck-king-g k-k _il_ -l m-me,” Draco choked out as Harry continued to plow into him. 

Harry laughed breathlessly before pushing himself up, then standing, leaving Draco to desperately lock his ankles around Harry’s waist. Still in him, sliding torturously against Draco’s walls with each step he took, Harry walked over to the nearest counter. A muscled arm swept all the contents off it, letting them crash and shatter against the floor, before he placed Draco down against the edge. Draco put his hands behind him to brace himself as Harry threw Draco’s legs over his shoulders. 

“Fuck all your targets?” Draco had the presence of mind to ask, half serious. 

A shark grin spread across Harry’s features. His hands were gripping Draco’s hips and he was slowly pulling almost all the way out of Draco before slamming himself back in. He did this a few times before replying, “Just the ones I like.” 

“Should I be jealous?” Draco let out a loud groan as Harry rammed into him, echoing Draco's pleasure. 

Harry leaned forward and bit down roughly on Draco’s bottom lip, sucking it between his teeth before murmuring, “I only like one of them.” 

Draco barely had time to allow himself to bask in the knowledge that only he had this sort of dynamic with Harry before the other man was fucking him just as quickly and roughly as before. Draco’s ass practically lifted off the counter with every thrust inward and he was vaguely aware he was swearing and moaning so loudly he wouldn’t be surprised if everyone in the hotel heard it. 

Then Harry was swearing too and he was reaching between them to wrap a fist around Draco’s cock. His hips impossibly quickened their pace as Draco fucked his fist, using the momentum of Harry’s thrusts, and Draco was practically shouting as he felt his orgasm approaching. 

He squeezed his eyes shut and made fists in Harry’s hair as he came, feeling as if he’d just been shoved off a cliff. Waves of pleasure washed over him as he coated his stomach and Harry’s chest with come and he was vaguely aware of Harry speeding up, then stiffening as warmth flooded into Draco. He was in such bliss that he didn’t even have the presence of mind to punch Harry for coming inside of him—come trickling down his thighs was a distant worry. 

As he came down and became aware of his panting breaths, the way he was wrapped around Harry, Draco released his white-knuckle grip on Harry’s hair. Harry was panting into Draco’s neck, skin covered in a sheen of sweat. Despite his bloodied face and bruised flesh, he looked like an Adonis. Draco picked a few shards of the ceramic vase from Harry's dark, messy hair. 

“How’s this going to work, then?” Draco murmured, catching his breath. 

Harry pushed himself up and off Draco, though didn’t move away. “We’ll fuck once more, make use of the bed, try not to break it this time, then once we’re both showered and dressed, we’ll go down to the lobby. Once we’re in the lobby, we’re fair game.” 

Draco nodded in agreement. “Sounds fair.” He frowned as he looked down. “And this time, your pants are coming all the way off.” 

“Deal.” 


End file.
